


アパーチャ

by Leafpuff



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Japanese Character(s), On The Dangers Of Corporate Abuse, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafpuff/pseuds/Leafpuff
Summary: It's too bad, because you've worked so hard for so little.





	アパーチャ

 

* * *

"Another complaint filed against the board leads policemen to open up an investigation on the ongoings of the company, charges may be filed against the current director for-"

 

Kevin stops the radio, then, and looks at him. The sunlight glides against the windshield.

 

"I thought you'd wanna know."

 

"That's none of my business," Keisuke laughs, bending over in the backseat to talk to him, "I'm on a holiday, you know."

 

"About time you got one."

 

"Thank you."

 

"About time," he repeats, swerving the car against the road, uninterrupted by traffic even as they go amidst the most populous villages.

 

The houses are made mostly of wood and bamboo, with intimidating spires and elegant roof tiles, particularly the old-fashioned ones that look like baked brick.

 

"You look very thin, since last year I saw you."

 

"A bit under the weather," Keisuke says, with difficulty, "I guess, but that's nothing. You know how it is."

 

"And the time difference."

 

"Yes." He laughs again.

 

"Aw, here we are, little lad." He opens the side door and gets out, possibly to bring back the luggage.

 

"I'm not your little lad anymore," he huffs, with a small smile, "It's been ages- I don't know if you can take that one, let me-"

 

"Camera equipment?"

 

"Ye-s."

 

Kevin gingerly takes out the rest of the luggage and gives one back to him, with much laughing.

 

"You shouldn't keep em in the boot," he takes out the folded bicycle, "especially not with all the bumps in the road and how fast we've been goin', you see, be more gentle."

 

"I'm going to miss you, already."

 

"Sure you will," he guffaws as he gets back into the car, "And that's your uncle, of course, in that green hoodie. Say hello to sensei for me, will you?"

 

A nice looking farmhouse awaits him, he sees his uncle latching back a cedar gateway, before getting track of him.

 

"And who are you?"

 

"Watanabe," he says, a bit curtly, "Keisuke Watanabe. I think I've sent you a postcard?"

 

\--^--

 

They're sitting in the living cum dining room, as they call it. A tea tray filled with biscuits, maccha tea and other paraphernalia awaits them on a low table. His uncle's focus is somewhere else.

 

"How many years has it been?"

 

"Six," Keisuke sets up his suitcase, "about six."

 

"So you've been in-"

 

"Cambridge."

 

"Cambridge," his uncle repeats, "and what, someplace in New York?"

 

"Actually, what I was thinking about-"

 

"He really hit the nail on the head with you, didn't he?"

 

"I was going to tell you something else, uncle."

 

"Go on," he sits back with a relaxed smile, as if he already knows what's coming.

 

"You're losing clients," Keisuke says, giving him some of the papers on the table, "Rapidly, as it seems. The thing is, we've worked together before, it doesn't seem nearly so implausible-"

 

"I've heard about it all, from your grandpa."

 

"Yes?"

 

"And I think it'll be a plain waste of time to be considering this, that's what I think." He gives him back the papers, "I see the statistics- and everything- no wonder my father put you through it- but there's no chance, really."

 

"So there's really no-"

 

"Definitely."

 

"-then you'll let me stay here, for the time being?"

 

"The thing is," his uncle stirs his cup with the tea spoon, and after a while he says, "maybe I will hear more of it, when that time comes. Currently, though- it won't be any use just throwing ourselves into this deal."

 

He turns his head away, as if hearing something.

 

"Yui Chan," his uncle disappears outside the room, calling out from the staircase, "When did you leave the work room?"

 

There's a creaking on the staircase.

 

"I was out shopping."

 

"In my understanding," he raises his voice, "-you weren't supposed to be out shopping, you were supposed to be doing something else entirely."

 

"Yeah, but Miri San asked me to-"

 

"Then don't listen to her," his uncle retorts, "and get back to work. You're an employee, not my wife's helping-hand."

 

The creaking resumes again, whatwith his uncle probably climbing the staircase. A girl shows up, with a blouse and a long skirt.

 

"Sorry for the commotion," she says.

 

Keisuke bows his head in greeting.

 

"You come far from here?"

 

"California," he answers, smiling a little. Thinking, Suzuki Yui doesn't look much older.

 

\--^--

 

The next few days, Keisuke can't manage to see his uncle because he's always in the work room, brushing up his old lacquerware with additional coats. He decides to make up for this by calling his grandfather whenever he can, and giving him updates.

 

He's in his room when he hears a sudden stirrup.

 

"Who's that?" He calls.

 

"I brought a futon."

 

He huffs a bit, before pulling off his shirt, "I hope you don't mind me making myself comfortable."

 

"Of course not! Go ahead."

 

He places the rest of his clothes on the desk chair, and sure enough, Yui's opening up the cabinet to place the futon down there.

 

"You know," he says, surprised, "I don't really welcome people into my room unannounced."

 

"-you could've used the dressing room."

 

"Oh, okay," he looks behind him, and sure enough, spots the chinese blinds, "Anything more you want to say?"

 

"I was wondering," she says, "about the bike that you have. It's a pretty old one- you aren't going to use it anymore?"

 

"Well," he says, sitting at his desk, "I don't know."

 

"What you said in that postcard," she answers, "you'd come here for a holiday, or something like that. I really expected you to ride around more, you know, like a tourist."

 

He laughs, "I'm not a tourist."

 

"You used to live around here?"

 

"Well, yes," he starts up his computer, "I was very young."

 

"How young?"

 

"About five, I think," he looks at her, "we were both in primary."

 

"I really- don't remember."

 

"Of course you don't," he says, unaffected, "as you know, we were very young."

 

"Don't tell me you were the class monitor."

 

There's a pause.

 

"You were," Faitsu looks at him with wide eyes, "I remembering hearing that you had a whole wall full of, um-"

 

"What?"

 

"I don't know, you had a wall full of  academic certificates, and everything, even back then. I didn't think you'd be coming back?"

 

"You're overreacting," he murmurs, "I was never that big of a deal."

 

"You must be kidding," she says seriously, "no wonder you've set yourself up so high, in the company. It's really no surprise."

 

\--^--

 

Keisuke also spends his days hidden away, only coming out once a day to have lunch with the family.

 

Takumi, another of the artisans, is very much dismayed.

 

"He won't tell me anything about what it's like in America."

 

Yui only puts back down her chopsticks, "Maybe you've annoyed him too much."

 

"Or maybe he's just being a tooting Yankee," he retorts.

 

She takes away the biscuit tin from him.

 

"Yui Chan," Miri says, coming round the bend with a heavy tea tray, "could you take these upstairs for me?"

 

"I was just about to," she says, pointing to Takumi, "but he keeps talking to me."

 

Miri smiles her nervous smile, "You sure are on your best behaviour today."

 

"What's that supposed to mean-"

 

"It's a good thing!" She says, "That you two are being so nice to our guest, in fact, I was just telling Takumi the other day-"

 

"Miri San, the villagers are already swarming upto this one," he calls, loudly, "a potential son, mate, marriage prospect, even an omiai? The guy probably hasn't got papers-"

 

"He's got papers alright," Miri says, still smiling broadly, "how else would they get him into America? But that's alright, I don't know why the villagers are talking about it so much-"

 

"That they aren't his parents?-"

 

"Of course they are," she interrupts him, "how else would they be able to cash him? And his grandpa? With all the fussing he's been doing, about the boy bringing in money to the company-"

 

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about it," Yui replies, timid.

 

"Of course we aren't supposed to talk about it- that young man, no one's ever bothered to give him the time of day, and that's the part we're talking about now. No harm done."

 

She hesitates, a bit, before sighing and turning back upstairs. Miri resumes talking to Takumi excitedly, and starts dialing up the telephone.

 

Keisuke's evidently back from the shower, going by the pleasant smell of bubble soap. He's already turned on his computer.

 

"Couldn't even bring yourself down to dinner," Yui mutters, setting down the tra tray on a desk beside, "life must be so hard when you're sitting around all day."

 

"Excuse me? I'm tired."

 

"That's what I said," another pause, "anyway, just don't come down for another five minutes."

 

"Why? Is uncle there?" He tries getting up from his chair, but Yui stops him.

 

"No, he isn't," she says, "he hasn't thought about the deal yet, if that's what you're wondering."

 

"Well, grandpa's been nudging me about it."

 

"I know."

 

"Well," Keisuke repeats, after a while, "I've got something for you."

 

He pulls open a drawer and gives her a Mars candy bar, a foreign brand, he says, "So I don't owe you anything now. No return-favours."

 

"That makes zero sense," she looks at the logo, and after a while, she says, "can I have another one?"

 

"No, of course not. You haven't done much else."

 

"That's stupid." She pockets it, however, and gives him a scathing look, "This is the fourth time, if this happens any more, I won't care if you starve yourself, I'm not bringing you any more breakfast. The kitchen's downstairs."

 

\--^--

 

"Are you done checking the records?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And the client file?"

 

"I think the stock's gone up by five per cent in the last week, grandpa," he stops typing for a while, it feels like his hand's trembling, "isn't that nice? Besides that, I've warmed up to uncle."

 

"You know," the voice says, from the other end of the line, "I've been reading these brochures the last few days, and there's this interesting bit about a young businessman-"

 

"Oh-"

 

"-who's set up a few hotels around the country, made up a booming franchise, have you heard about it?"

 

"No, I don't think I have," he opens the relevant folder, "actually, I've been too busy- working."

 

"I've booked a flight to Shikoku."

 

"Oh that's- that's nice."

 

"More than nice," his grandfather spits, "It's a chance to use our connections. To have something better if we play our cards right."

 

"You're very right," Keisuke turns over, and the windchime is swaying too and fro above his bedroom, slowly, "I'm sure I can talk to uncle about it. Goodbye, grandpa."

 

\--^--

 

"You didn't tell me about this."

 

His uncle is in the dining room, for once, and he's refusing to touch his food.

 

"Tell you what?"

 

"This," he says, showing Keisuke a folder from his open suitcase, "the contract. It says here that if I have a deal with Arts and Co. I'll need to lacquer at least seventy-two pieces for the exhibition. That's about three months' work."

 

"Well, I didn't know about it."

 

"You didn't know about it? Keisuke San, I have a strict policy against overworking my employees- they'll have to do nights for this."

 

"I'm sure I didn't know," he walks to the table and inspects the piece of paper, "I was told I couldn't look into it- insider information."

 

"What do you think would've happened if I signed the contract-"

 

"I don't know-"

 

"Your friend," his uncle begins tapping the floor furiously, "she's an employee here- what do you think she would feel about this?"

 

"Just fix it," he says exasperated, when Keisuke doesn't answer, too busy with reading the contract himself, a bit too panicked, "Talk to him. I don't care what you do. Fix all this."

 

"I'll have to make a few calls," he answers, "I'll try my best."

 

"What are you doing standing there? Just call him."

 

"Okay, I'm," he stops when he bumps into Yui, "what?"

 

"That noodle shop is open today," she says, already in a fluffy grey hoodie, "It's three a.m. I thought you'd be free."

 

"Well, I can't," he manages, "lots of things to do."

 

"Do them later, then."

 

"You don't understand," he says, "you'll be working extra hours if I don't."

 

"Well, that hardly matters."

 

"What do you even mean?"

 

"I mean that it'll be two of us working extra hours, then, instead of just one."

 

Keisuke looks at her, then. And rolls his eyes.

 

"Alright, okay, but it's the last time."

 

\--^--

 

The exasperating thing about Keisuke is that he has to bring his flip-phone with him, so he can work, ring up customers of Arts and Co. Yui watches him, for a moment, then digs back into her udon bowl.

 

"How is it?" She says.

 

'Good- not good enough. A lot of spice."

 

At his criticism, she slowly exchanges his noodle bowl for hers, fingers cold and blue.

 

"You can't tell me that you've eaten better ramyeon." She says.

 

"Bold of you to assume I've ever willingly eaten any ramyeon, or liked it," he looks at his watch again in the midst of eating his fill, cautiously, "there's not much time left."

 

"I'm pretty sure it's what we ordered last time," Yui says, whilst opening a can of beer, "but they keep messing it up-" she pauses.

 

"I think I saw someone coming up."

 

"Probably a wild life photographer," he says, resting his head on his arm, "he's got this fancy DSLR, apparently."

 

"You should go and help him, the poor guy. Look at him go."

 

"What?" He says, quietly watching the guy's desperate attempts in trying to command a waiter, as his soft 'excuse me's are brushed off, "I'd do anything to be in his shoes."

 

Yui raises a sceptical eyebrow, she's about to speak up, when-

 

Keisuke's interrupted by his phone ringing.

 

"Can I take this?"

 

"Oh! Go ahead!"

 

"Hello? No, I didn't get it done yet- right now? I'm not at home right now- right," he chances a glimpse at Yui, "how silly of me." He cuts off the call.

 

"It's your grandfather, I expect."

 

He's quiet for a moment.

 

"Doesn't he ever give you a rest?"

 

"I should probably go," he says, a trifle slowly, "I'm guessing that a deal's gone awry, or something. He wants me home right this instant."

 

"When doesn't he want you home?" She says, "Every minute of the day, I expect."

 

He shakes his head at her. She pauses, before leaving the topic.

 

"At least get dinner before you go- when's the last time you had dinner? Miri San's not at home."

 

"I'm sorry, I really can't right now." He takes his camera bag from the other seat, "Thanks for the meal."

 

\--^--

 

On the day of his grandfather' arrival, Keisuke packs up his suitcase as quickly as he can, then gets back to work in the computer, still in casual clothes.

 

It is in this state that Yui finds him, in the evening, when she opens the shoki.

 

"I just heard the craziest thing," she says, "I heard you were going today, and so quickly. The rumor was that you'd booked a flight, or something- is that really true?"

 

"I'm not sure-"

 

" -you don't look like you're dressed up," she says, "you don't need help packing up, or something?"

 

"No. It's fine."

 

"You don't need anything? Anything at all?"

 

"No, actually," he opens up his bag and starts rummaging for something, and gives her a Mars bar.

 

"-I'm guessing this is your way of shutting me up."

 

He laughs.

 

"Hey," she resumes, just as he's going back to work, "Your grandpa- He's coming back?"

 

"Actually," he opens one of his grandfather's statistics reports, sets the folder down on his desk, "I'm fetching him today- from the airport."

 

"That sounds great!"

 

"It does," he says, "he's really going to be impressed, I've got ahead on a whole lot of work and-"

 

He can't quite finish that sentence. The view becomes blurred, and Keisuke registers with some alarm that he's bleeding, one drop, two drops, and then a few more. He turns his head up and pinches his nose, with practised ease.

 

Yui looks a little surprised, and she brings him a tissue box, "Are you okay?! Should I call Miri-"

 

"It's alright, really," he says, taking a bunch of tissues, "Everything's fine. But I can't talk right now, there are really some things I must do."

 

"Well, you can't do it later on, can't you?"

 

"I'm sorry, I really don't have much time." He lays his head back a bit, on the chair. Yui walks around him and clutches the chair handle, tightly, "You should rest a little bit for now, maybe go to the airport later. It's going to be a while anyway."

 

"He's going to be so disappointed." He says, a bit later.

 

"Who is?"

 

Keisuke doesn't answer, soon going back to his computer and business records.

 

"Nothing's going to happen," Yui murmurs helpfully, "you should take a rest- and maybe you can tell him to delay the flight."

 

And really, he should have let it go, there.

 

"You don't understand," he says, slowly, like he's explaining to a baby, "you don't understand anything at all. And you live in such a small world, you haven't got the slightest idea of how it works."

 

Yui stops approaching him, then, but it's not like she can really allow herself to acknowledge what he's said.

 

"I was just going to wish you goodnight," she says, "Keisuke, and I'd tell you to use the futon- it might be a little warm tonight."

 

\--^--

 

Watanabe Senior arrives at Shikoku the next morning, to oversee the deal. Not much goes on after, because he sends his grandson, Keisuke, to the local bar just after arriving, for him to meet with a few clients.

 

Keisuke comes back, rids of his coat, and joins his grandfather in the dining room.

 

"Like your birthday present?"

 

"Of course, grandpa," he answers, "I kept wondering what was taking you so long, too."

 

"One of the men you saw," he says, "Kanata San, did he happen to tell you anything, in particular?"

 

"Well I don't think-"

 

"His father was a scientist, very great man, that guy. Came from an aristocratic family, and they have a steel-manufacturing company."

 

"He may have said something about it."

 

"Japan is in their hands, as they say," his grandfather pours sake into his glass, "and ours- the businessmen, the commonwealth- you don't mind taking a sip?"

 

"Of course not, gran, but I rather have some things to do-"

 

"Really, I thought you'd finished up."

 

"You gave me some records to look over, too, yesterday."

 

"And I really thought you'd be finished with it," he grimaces, as he takes another sip, "it doesn't hurt to try a little more, these days." He glances briefly at the wine glass, before sighing and setting it down. "The company could use a loan, rough place it's in- but it might not go over well."

 

\--^--

 

The next day Keisuke peers into the kitchen, humming.

 

"I've told him today that we're going downtown, to see uncle's work shop. Keep it down, will you?"

 

"He's going to figure it out," Yui says, in a patronising tone, as she's dilligently scrubbing the plates, "soon, if you keep getting missing- like this."

 

"I always come back right when he's starting his meetings-" he turns on the water in the sink for her, "besides, he doesn't care what I do, in my free time-"

 

"Yui Chan, you wouldn't mind coming out for a bit, would you?" Comes their hostess' voice, a little after they're done, "there's some clothes in need of washing."

 

"Sure," she says, giving him a glance, "I'm coming right now."

 

"There's the bit your grandfather wants to talk to you," Miri whispers, in urgent tones after arriving, "about- I don't know- something about the company. It's pretty bad."

 

"When'd he come back?"

 

"Just this afternoon," she says, "you didn't see him coming in?"

 

Keisuke shakes his head, turns away, "I was at the post office," he says, "I didn't think he'd be coming back so soon."

 

When he gets there, he sees his grandpa watching some programs in their old analogue TV set, feverishly changing the channels.

 

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Keisuke asks.

 

"About what?"

 

"This," he waves about the newspaper, before skimming his eyes through it, quickly, "Alleged investment fraud, Watanabe Haruki managing close connections- this- what is this?"

 

"Where did you find it?"

 

"The Daily Mail," he says, exasperated, "some postman guy threw it over the gate, and I wouldn't even have known if Yui Chan hadn't gotten it first."

 

"It's a false premise," his grandfather answers him, quickly, "one of our accountants made a mistake- some mistake in the calculations. I suppose, or he'd told some relative of his about the stocks-"

 

"Who was it?"

 

"Never mind who it was." He rolls up his newspaper, "It was a lazy one, to be sure. But I'd rather you spend your time in worrying about other things, the exhibution deal, for instance, with your uncle-"

 

"I'm going to the cinema," he says, in the middle of it, "you can call me up there if you need me."

 

"So easily shrugged off, this concern of ours," his grandfather shakes his head, and starts tapping away at the calculator, "you'll put your parents and me on the streets, someday, if this continues."

 

"This is crazy," he shakily takes up the paper, "why'd you not tell me?"

 

"You'll have to go to Tokyo," his grandfather continues, "tomorrow, if possible. It might do well to get another job somewhere, if things get too bad, from eight am to five, then from six pm to three am in ours-"

 

Keisuke rereads the newspaper.

 

"Okay," he says, "okay, I'm going to get some coffee- cool my head. You can tell me about this later, gran."

 

\--^--

There's only a few days left before Keisuke has to go back to Tokyo- the default option if their company really ends up in trouble.

 

He resolves to take as short a time as possible to explain things to his grandfather, and tell him how things stand right now.

 

His grandfather is reading a newspaper, the next day, exclaiming about a recent tsunami in the kanto region, when Keisuke asks if he can come in.

 

"Did you have a good sleep?"

 

"Yes," he sits down on his knees, picks up his chopsticks for the egg tamagoyaki, "I don't think you should be reading any small texts right now, especially since-"

 

"Let us get to the point," his grabdfather interrupts him, "Watanabe San and his apprentices have confirmed the deal with us, we'll be having an exhibition in Tokyo on june the third-"

 

Keisuke stops, in the middle of eating.

 

"We will?"

 

"Yes," he straightens his newspaper again, "I believe we will have our hands quite full. Have you worked on the presentation?"

 

"Actually I haven't been able to," he leans his head on his arm, "It's been getting harder to sleep-"

 

"Your migraines, you mean."

 

"You're right."

 

"Nonsense," he positions his glasses again, "If you'd wanted a holiday you could have just asked for it."

 

Keisuke now takes a longer time to answer, "It's been kind of hard for me to wake up in the last few days, gran-"

 

"I remember feeling that way too when I was your age- but of course, I strived on, and my migraine won me the national entrepreuner's award."

 

"You loved doing what you were doing, then."

 

He gets rid of the newspaper and places it on the table, "Of course, not. I liked fumbling around with different things." He looks up at him, "But I never let them get in the way of my future. You don't have to like something to be good at it, and if you're good at it, you should use it to the best of your abilities."

 

Keisuke doesn't say anything to this.

 

His grandfather goes back to buttering his bread with marmalade, and as he tries reaching out a hand to give his grandpa another paper, it's easily brushed away for the purpose of finding a salt shaker.

 

\--^--

 

A strange event occurs wherein Keisuke can't find it in him to sleep, even after a few sleeping pills and forty two hours of restless work. He phones Yui, after a while, to see if she would be able to help him, if she knew more about the deal.

 

He'd wanted to be productive.

 

In return he hears a greeting and an apology from an answering machine.

 

This goes on. He turns on a radio channel and starts working again, and is almost about to fall asleep when he hears a shutter slide open.

 

"It's a lot more organised since the last time I came here." Yui says, coming around with a stack of papers.

 

"Yeah?" But it wasn't, everything was all over the place. He takes one of the files and opens it, "I was expecting something more than a... registry. But it'll do."

 

"I knew you'd say that," she mumbles, disappointed, before hanging her coat on the doorfront, "Actually, about that- I visited your uncle's workshop but then it was locked- I realised he locks it at night- but I forgot, somehow, in my hurry. Actually, I think we can go there in the morning, if you're in a hurry-"

 

"Oh no, of course not. I'm in no hurry. It's just that there's been some stuff going on lately-"

 

He again gives her a small smile, spins back to his desk, and then softly, he places his forehead on his arm, just the pressure, to make his head feel a little better, throb a little less, it's quiet now, and he's going to go back to work soon.

 

Quite abruptly, he starts crying.

 

Sobs even louder when Yui immediately puts everything aside to reach him.

 

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Are you alright? Did something happen?"

 

She pauses, almost worriedly. And Keisuke thinks, he thinks he's being annoying, or something like that.

 

"I didn't think you were going to come."

 

"What?"

 

"I didn't think you'd come," he says, in a brief attempt to regain coherency, "because it's three in the morning." Then his face crumbles, all over again.

 

"Of course I'd come," she says, "I'm your friend, I mean, you'd said you _needed_ me." 

 

"I did say that, didn't I?"

 

"That's not wrong," she says, when he's silent, "people need each other for things all the time. All the time. There's really nothing funny about it, if you ask me."

 

Keisuke retreats into his chair. See, he doesn't really want to talk about it anymore. Faitsu looks into his face, and then pulls away.

 

"Alright," she says, "I'll leave you to it. But you can call me whenever if you like. Really, Keisuke."

 

\--^--

 

Keisuke had been convinced that the topic will never be brought up again, but he's wrong, of course.

 

It's only a day or so later, when he finds Yui in his uncle's work shop, molding some clay. Now, there's nothing too remarkable about the event, but he finds himself watching, a while, and then he inches closer.

 

"I didn't know you could make pottery."

 

"Keisuke Kun," she says, almost has a whiplash, when she sees him, "What are you doing here?"

 

"I couldn't sleep."

 

"Couldn't sleep?" She exclaims, "Why not?"

 

"I don't know- I suppose I was thinking about the exhibition."

 

"Oh, I see. And you're supposed to go to Tokyo, too, in a week- I guess it would tire you out, wouldn't it?"

 

"Oh no, not at all." He's quick to say, "That's just the way it is, you know- you go around from time to time, collecting art. It's just the business."

 

"But is it, really- I mean," her eyes flicker back to the pottery, and then she does a little laugh, "you must've thought about it, come on- skipping from place to place, it must tire you out, sometimes, the travelling- you must've thought about it."

 

"I didn't, really," he whispers, a shade quieter, "In fact, I think I'm very fortunate- having the money and all."

 

Yui stops listening. She turns her head back, to the pottery.

 

"Do you want to take a picture?"

 

Keisuke's almost sure he hasn't heard her properly. He says this out loud the next second.

 

"You wouldn't mind taking a picture?" She repeats, "We needed one for the exhibition- showcase the art, or something like that. We didn't have any photographer, but since you're here-"

 

"I don't have a camera-"

 

Yui proceeds to take the kerosene lamp, sets it beside her kiln.

 

"That's too bad, really-" she says, sighing, "you could do it so well."

 

Keisuke only has to think a second. He leaves the room, shortly, and returns with a Polaroid camera.

 

"Will this do?" He says to her, before turning on the lights, "Alright, where do we start?"

 

\--^--

 

"Keisuke San," Miri says, startling him in front of the veranda, "Did I startle you?"

 

He moves back a little.

 

"It's just that there's this woman's come to see your grandpa, should I bring her in?"

 

"Not sure-" he hums, "what's she for?"

 

"Says she's come for an interview."

 

"Really, with grandpa?"

 

"I suppose."

 

"I shouldn't disturb them, then- did they seem too busy?"

 

"Quite," she says, "but mind, you don't want dinner now? You could go in and see to it later."

 

"That's just what I was thinking, Miri San," he says, not looking at her, "my stomach was growling."

 

"You just seem to eat less and less these days," she pulls up a plastic blue chair, and sits behind him, "of course, I hadn't noticed at first. Or else I would ask about you about it more often."

 

"Well," a pause, "I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry about me."

 

"That's just what I said," she says dismissively, then in lowered tones, "but your friend always keeps saying these things."

 

"Well," another pause, "she doesn't know much about me."

 

"Don't you mind about it now, I'm sure she didn't really mean anything- but tell me, what did you want for dinner?"

 

"The artisans-" he says, instead, "they aren't going to dine with us today? I thought they would."

 

"Not today, I suppose, our Yui's out at the market and Takumi- don't suppose you've met the guy much, have you? That's good, you know, good- he makes such a right mess everywhere he goes- but we'd rather like to have full meals with everyone at the table."

 

Despite hearing all this, Keisuke decides not to go to dinner. After working a few hours upstairs, he takes a small break from computer work and sits again in the veranda

.

Soon enough, Yui appears, with her outdoor jacket on.

 

"Okay," she says, "You wouldn't believe this."

 

She shows him a newspaper, sets it on a wicker table before rummaging in her pockets for something, "and this one- but I didn't doubt it."

 

Keisuke looks at the contents placed before him in confusion.

 

"That paper," she clarifies, "they have a office here, locally- and the pictures- you took of the lacquerware, you worked so hard for them, that I just had to go I and mail them over, and-"

 

"It's too early for this-"

 

"But they chose you- look!" She unfolds the paper, "Look at this- they wanna have you- why-"

 

"-because-"

 

"-not?"

 

"I didn't ask you to do it," he says, "I knew I took the pictures but I didn't think you'd send them-" he stands up, quickly, "it was just to help you guys, but you're so stubborn, someone might misunderstand-"

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"Someone might misunderstand," he says, trailing away, "Don't you understand? It's too late- too late for anything like that."

 

\--^--

 

"They've been talking for some time," Yui whispers, the next evening, "I bet they'd want tea."

 

"Not yet, I suppose."

 

There's a lasting din in the drawing room.

 

"What's taking them so long?" She peaks behind her a bit, through a small opening in the partition, and the light changes, "They're going to miss dinner at this rate."

 

"You can call them, then," Miri blows some steam off the rice cooker, sets it down on the table, "as bad as it is, maybe they'll listen."

 

"What's happened?" Keisuke asks, first thing he gets down from the study.

 

"It's alright," says Miri, "just the interviewer from last week."

 

"What?" He looks at Yui, "I thought he wasn't coming back?"

 

"I don't know," she sighs, "but apparently there's been some latest development- in the news."

 

"Don't you think we could coerce him out, then? Grandpa isn't-"

 

"No, can't-" Yui mumbles," I'm guessing. I saw the man, and he looked frighteningly-"

 

"Now, Keisuke San," Miri interrupts.

 

"-determined."

 

"I would encourage you not to talk about this."

 

A small pause accompanies this.

 

"It's something the elderly should handle," Miri says, sensing them paying more attention to her, "besides, it's not the first time something like that's happened. It's not like it's anything special- for you to talk about."

 

Yui gives him a significant look, from where he's looming over. He just shakes his head in return.

 

"I'll just be down in three seconds," he says out loud, more plainly than he intented, "I just hope it's not some bad news they're talking about."

 

"Of course it's bad news," Yui interjects, softly, "It's the press- and there's been too much news surrounding the company-."

 

"Now, you can't know everything."

 

As they see Miri leaving, Yui catches him, in a whisper.

 

"They don't want to tell us about it," she says, "but it's about that guy- what was his name again? You know, the guy that was in the papers, for fraud-"

 

"Him? What does he want from us, again?"

 

"He doesn't want anything," she shakes her head, and with a smaller voice, "he's dead, you know. He's killed himself. I suppose that's what the interviewer's about."

 

"But why would he-"

 

"He's family's aimed a lawsuit, at your company," she continues, "something about him being overworked- not given enough time- but I wouldn't know the details, of it."

 

Keisuke sits himself down- drops, really, on the chair.

 

"-but it's really quite serious."

 

\--^--

 

"My mom made some rice pilaf," Yui says, the next morning, setting it down, "and some tea, for the headache- you've done your work already?"

 

He raises his head, his hair unkempt, "You're here?"

 

"Yeah," she says, wearily, "What've you been doing?"

 

"Wasting my time," he mumbles, shifting, "taking pictures. At three a.m."

 

"So wasteful," she sits beside him, on the desk, "the paddy fields look nice."

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

"You have to go around Kotsu mountain to go that way, don't you?"

 

"Kind of." He says, "The rice pilaf tastes nice. My mom used to make them the same, for some reason."

 

He eats in silence, while Yui looks over the pictures, pointing out cities at each page turned.

 

"Tokyo tower," she reads, "I've always wanted to go there."

 

"I have some more-" he says, "in the other photo book-"

 

"Oh, you don't have to-"

 

He gets up, looks through his drawer.

 

"There you go," he says, bending over, "that's Tokyo Tower in night-time. This is Père Lachaise, a graveyard in Paris. I made my friends sit beside the fountain for this one- isn't that just silly?"

 

He shuffles and looks at the pictures for a while, pointing out favourites.

 

"You know," Yui says, in the midst of pouring over one of Manila's parks, "what I was wondering?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"I was wondering if you could show these to your grandpa, you know," she looks at him with big eyes, "and the job offer from the newspaper. Maybe- now that the company doesn't have much of a future- I guess, I mean, maybe he'll think about it."

 

"Maybe-"

 

"And you could even show him the photos you took for the exhibition. He could be amazed, you know. They're very good."

 

"Actually," Keisuke bites the corner of his lip, "I was just thinking about going to this art gallery in- Matsuyama city? It's an hour's ride from here. I even went to the bus station, today, but then I stopped, and thought, I shouldn't go, not with all of this."

 

"Well, you should." She says, adding quietly, "if you thought about it so much."

 

"You're right," he mumbles, "maybe I should, and if I get a place- there-"

 

A beat, then, "And if he loves your pictures-"

 

"But this is just a thought, really, I'm not really that serious about it," he turns back around in his chair, "it's nothing really serious."

 

"Even if I'm not of much help," she says finally, placing a hand on his knee, "when you do get it, the job I mean- even if I'm not of much help, I'd like to know about it."

 

\--^--

 

For the first time ever, Keisuke tries to make a difference.

 

He goes ahead and gets the job, and Yui encourages him- says that now he might start feeling a bit decent.

  
\--^--

 

Decent. A week later, Keisuke is lying in his bed, weary as usual, sleep being out of the question, when he hears something like a door being thrown open.

 

He gets up, and looks at the clock, and seeing that it's late in the morning, tries to ease out of the blanket.

 

"I'm sorry it took so long," he hears his grandfather groan, loudly, "but I didn't mean to wake you up- where is he?"

 

Keisuke lies still, for a moment. Then he proceeds to brush away the things on his table, quickly.

 

"Sleeping, I suppose-"

 

"Sleeping? At this time of the morning?"

 

"Good morning, grandpa," he says quickly, sliding open his bedroom door, "it kind of took you a while."

 

"And you, too, you must've been up all last night, weren't you-"

 

"You wouldn't care for some tea about now?" Miri suggests, to no effect.

 

"-I guess you were advancing on some of the paperwork- I hope you're finished by now."

 

"I'm not," he kind of looks at Miri, "I'm not, really."

 

"He was looking over the pictures," she blabbers, "of the exhibition things- last night, with Yui, they were working very hard-"

 

"Is that so?" His grandfather says, "Well, I'd be very happy to know the details. Where is she right now?"

 

"In the workshop."

 

"Then I guess that means she'll be back very soon," he takes off his greatcoat, looks sharply at Miri, "the smell's killing me- about time I took a shower- but you'll give me notice when she comes back, won't you?"

 

"Yes, of course."

 

He has this sneering look about him, then, like he's won a prize- and he only gives Keisuke one last look before retiring to the bath.

 

"What were you doing last night, anyway?"

 

"Nothing much."

 

"Nothing much!" Miri takes off her apron, "nothing much! It must've been something."

 

Keisuke fidgets, for a while.

 

"You're not going to tell him, are you?"

 

"This isn't any of my business," she says, "but if he asks- I suppose I won't have much of a choice."

 

"Just tell him I go to the cinema-"

 

With a scoff, "Alright, but I'll tell you now- that doesn't sound much better."

They shut up again at the sound of a door being closed.

 

\--^--

 

Keisuke's in his study when the door opens.

 

"Has he figured it out already?" He says, to Yui, "It didn't take too long."

 

"Well, he'd met the interviewer already- he must've heard something about it."

 

"Was he from the Daily Mail?"

 

"Kind of," she says, sitting beside him, "I mean, it could've been- he knew about your job before he even spoke to me- and I just told him- that it shouldn't be a very big deal."

 

Keisuke doesn't pay attention to her then, too busy looking out the window.

 

"I knew it wouldn't work out," he says, eventually, "the plan- or whatever it was, I could've been more sensible."

 

"Well, you're a bit wrong," she murmurs, "he would've said no either way."

 

"Yes, he might have," he answers, "but that's not what I'm talking about, you see? I was wondering if I had to be so passionate- I mean, if it really did help very much."

 

Yui remains quiet.

 

"It's just the way I see the world," he continues, "and I didn't have to make such a big deal about it- I mean, one can't be that insensible-"

 

Yui stands up abruptly.

 

"I'm going to take a breathe of fresh air." She says.

 

Keisuke doesn't feel the need to stop her from going.

 

\--^--

 

After finding out that Keisuke had meant to find a path of his own- Watanabe, naturally, books the earliest train ride to Tokyo.

 

He doesn't see Yui for a week afterwards. He's not so sure why. Miri tells him that it's merely the artisans being too busy for him, when they are already setting aside the luggage- but that theory is disproved when he's sitting in an old-fashioned Toyota, on his last day, and Takumi approaches him from the rear end.

 

"Hey," the guy says, as Kevin slides down the windshield, "could I talk to you for a moment?"

 

"I'm not so sure," Keisuke says, putting away his book, "when'd you leave?"

 

"That's not important." Takumi gives him a kind of look, "It's about that interviewer, you know- I figured you'd want to hear more about her."

 

"Well, that's not for me to-"

 

"It is for you to hear," he says, with a new kind of vigour- one that almost matches Yui's, "you work for that company."

 

Keisuke can no longer pretend to attend his headache. Kevin acts like he hasn't heard, either. He gets out of the car and is immediately bombarded with a list of things.

 

"That employee was innocent, you know?" Takumi says, giving him a paper envelope, "It's not much but it's all she's got. Your grandpa was giving him a hard time, when he was alive-"

 

A hard time, huh?

 

"-and your gramps swindled everyone's money. The chap was laid blame on- your grandpa lays blame on everyone, usually, so that's not an uncommon occurrence."

 

"You're wrong," he says, "you've got it all wrong-" he laughs a little, "I'm guessing. Grandpa wouldn't do those things."

 

"Oh?" Takumi blinks, "And I'm guessing you're saying this from your personal experience? When was the last time he treated you like family-"

 

_When was the last time he treated you like family?_

 

"But I'm not," he's quick to say, "I'm not his family- I'm his employee, first and foremost-"

 

"First and foremost an employee," Takumi repeats, "I'd never thought I'd hear that, Keisuke, especially not from you. And I can't believe that this is the kind of world we're living in right now- a world where a job can come before family."

 

He pauses, and seems to guess he's been rambling.

 

"What I want," he says, more calmly, "is for you to really think about it. Is this really what you want- I mean- are you really just going to crunch numbers for the rest of your life, sitting in an office cubicle? Will that make you happy?"

 

That wouldn't make Keisuke happy. But the point of life isn't about being happy, the point of life is to make-"

 

"-money," Keisuke says.

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"That's all I think about." Keisuke says, "How to make more money- I've let it become my sole reason. And I feel like I'm a piggy bank at this point." He briefly puts his palms against his eyelids.

 

It's a very, very strange thing, because when he closes his eyes he can't really imagine continuing this life, wealthy as it may be- he thinks of having a normal job and a family, and something about being able to eat ramen with Yui whenever he could- that should probably not have been there.

 

"Let me go, Takumi," is what he says, after, as he's getting back into the car, "It's too late to change things like that."

 

Kevin starts the car and Takumi leaves, a bit irate. Shortly after, his grandfather appears and the car makes its way out of the front entrance.

 

\--^--

 

During the car ride everything is so quiet that Keisuke's able to think about these things, for a while. Why had his eyes felt a bit wet, then, while he was talking to Takumi? He supposes that he's just been feeling so alone, for a while- and one of these days it's bound to come out of you.

 

The car makes its way over a steel bridge, and there's surprisingly condensed traffic. The shiny metal of the cars gleam in the sunlight, as they collectively sift through the road.

 

Kevin makes a little comment, here and there, but it's this one that really catches his attention-

 

"Tokyo-" he says, "It's a nice place to live in if you've got money."

 

The thing is, it's not so surprising- he'd said it once before, about a month ago- when Keisuke had come down from the Ritz Charleston Hotel in Tokyo, and the two were on their way to Shikoku, caught in the middle of traffic.

 

"Yeah," he'd said, surrounded then by the glitz and glamour of neon signs and city lights, "It's really a very nice place to live."

 

Now, though, Keisuke doesn't do much except support his head against the window. He feels the migraines starting again.

 

It's only then, really, that he glimpses the sight of a bicycle-  _his bicycle._

 

"Oye!" Says, Kevin, honking.

 

The cars pass by, one by one, and Yui remains in a standstill in front of them.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I'm here to talk to Keisuke," she says, as if she's in a nice little meeting, "How are you, by the way? Hope your migraine's gotten better."

 

"It has," he says, surprised.

 

"Please leave, miss." His grandpa grits through his teeth, "Don't force me to call the police. This is a damned stupid thing you're doing- even for you."

 

"You're right," she says, "I am being stupid. Stupidly, stupidly brave." Then she clutches the handle tighter, "But I'd argue that isn't a bad thing to hold against cowards- like you."

 

For a moment, Watanabe seems to be at loss for what to think. Then he tells Kevin to continue driving.

 

"Don't!" Keisuke says, as Kevin starts the car, "What are you doing?!"

 

The lights turn green. The car is flung forward- but Yui manages to dodge by going around, at the last minute.

 

It works, at least, in the way it's supposed to work. Their path is cleared, and the car will zoom by the road any moment now.

 

"Keisuke!" She manages to call, maneuvering the ride through the asphalt, "I hope you'll take good care of yourself."

 

It would have worked, for sure, if Keisuke did not have his hand around the car door.


End file.
